Weldon

The other day someone had me thinking of my first cousin, Weldon. When we lived at the old wood frame house underneath the big magnolia tree on the dirt road where the smoke and sulfur from hell came out from the cracks in the road (previous story), Wayne was carrying Weldon for a ride on the bike. The only place to ride was on the dirt road because the roots of the magnolia were huge and out of the ground and covered most of the yard. Safety was not an issue because most of the three people per day that used the road came by at a snails pace, and were always on the lookout for an excuse to stop and talk. The bike had no fenders, the seat had no padding, and no chain guard. Wayne was 8 and standing up pedalling and Weldon was 3 and sitting on the seat holding on. It was a lot of work for Wayne to pedal in the soft dirt and he was swinging back and forth. Weldon was holding on as best he could when his big toe got caught between the chain and chain sprocket.
Screamed so loud he broke blood vessels in his cheeks. No one knew what to do. Wayne was the oldest, but he could not let go of the bike, Weldon was stuck on the seat, if he moved his toe probably would fall off, Benny, Frankie, and I were a good ways off. Barbara was in the house and heard the screams and came running, with aunt Betty and mama a few feet behind. Everyone was excited and moving around all crazy like, but finally someone got a pair of pliers and loosened the nut of the wheel and moved it forward. When his toe came loose Weldon jumped down and ran like crazy because he knew that the kerosene treatment was next. Whatever happened to you , the treatment was to pour kerosene on the cut. I guess it worked because none of us ever had a wound to get infected.
Now Frankie Joe was Weldon's older brother and was a mischievous little fellow that would play a trick on you if you weren't paying attention. One Christmas at Daddy Frank's house over by Harvey Palmer's place it was almost dark and every one of the many grandchildren were shooting fireworks and bottle rockets. It was not enough excitement for Frankie that he accidentally set off his bag of fireworks in his back pocket and scared the hell out of everybody, he found an empty gas can. Well, this looked like his kind of fun. Let me drop a lighted match into this container and see what happens. How did that work out?
The can exploded like a mortor round and landed on the other side of the house, Frankie's hair and eye brows were gone, his face was a bright red and I think he had one of those brown spots in his pants also. Today he uses the diesel pump.